


glass eyes

by orphan_account



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Costumes, Drug Use, Drunk Sex, Eating Disorders, House Party, Implied Relationships, M/M, Unhealthy Relationships, how people do it without spoilers, i don't have this talent, i tried but i hate tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:34:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26251255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "i am kevin costner.""the bodyguard or the untouchable?""the bodyguard," he murmurs, doesn't know why he speaks so low. he wants to seize the moment, maybe. keep it in a glass jar only he can open.(minho has always been very delicate. his body fits perfectly in jisung's like they are complementary shapes.)"uh." it sounds like nothing. gravity doesn't propagate the sound so sleepy minho is. "you were always the romantic one anyway."
Relationships: Bang Chan/Lee Felix, Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	glass eyes

"you're high hyung," it's the first thing jisung says that night. minho wouldn't mind it. he wouldn't have minded it at all, jisung was always trying to be some armored knight when they were together. if it wasn't for jisung's absence for the last eight weeks… minho would forget about it. he wouldn't mind. "it's pretty early for that."

"fuck you," and minho means every word. he always does. it's jisung, the guy he's been in love for the entirety of his life. fuck you - it's just two words. but, like i love you, it fucking means a lot. fuck you (i missed you so much. where the hell have you been for the last two months, darling? couldn't you have left me a text. i hate you i hate you- i love you). "how do you know that?"

"is the eyes," jisung replies. always the eyes. the two globes are so small and translucent they could be made of glass the whole time. "they never lie. yours don't, baby."

"don't fucking call me that," minho is pushing him away but he's so fucking drunk jisung does not move a centimeter back. they know how to hurt each other in other ways. "i hate you," he doesn't. he never did. he doesn't know if he can. 

it was early june when jisung walked away from his life like they were nothing. he didn't leave a message, not a hint of where he could be. 

jisung just left him a copy of a book he liked, committed to every sentence. colorless tsukuru tazaki and his years of pilgrimage. it meant shit because minho always hated reading and jisung knew it.

after that, he left. for two long months.

(enough months one side could fuck it all up.)

(and he did. it's easier to kiss lips that won't hurt you.)

"i missed you," jisung says back. if minho didn't love him so much, he would have punched him in the face right there. twice. until it bleed a little on the bottom lip and jisung looked sexier than he already was, like an anime protagonist after a fight. "if you didn't smell like vodka so much i would have kiss you, min." (don't call me that, jisungie, it's too sweet. you can't anymore because you were a ghost for two months. and ghosts don't have a heart. they don't know how to bleed.) "you need to stop drinking."

minho growled. he moved further and let go of jisung's arms trying to reach his waist. 

minho is his forever but he's not his right now.

"i'm not drinking," he's not. one failed attempt to do so made his clothes smell like vodka for the rest of the night. the world moved too fast. an open bottle was at his hold, minho went down on his bathroom's sink to snort a cocaine line with a dollar bill (he deserved it. he was the fucking king of the world in that moment) and his hands slippered so much he couldn't stop the accident from happening. then the costume he paid not more than $15 for was completely ruined. fuck! "smoked some good shit."

"what? weed…" jisung and his tiny, round eyes - scared people's eyes - judged him. (minho, stop caring so much.) minho loves jisung, he could have his small squirrel babies any time. he thinks jisung should fuck off from his house porch if he doesn't know some fun.

he was the one who disappeared. he was.

"no, coke."

"jesus, minho-" shit. there it was. the disappointment. as if jisung wasn't the one rubbing cocaine over his pink gums by the time they've met (always at parties). as if they didn't fuck that same night for the first time. as if minho's dick hadn't been the best one jisung had ever taken, two of them so high their feet didn't touch the ground while they 69-ed. fucking hypocrite. jisung shouted his name so loud minho's father knocked on his door minutes later, asking if someone was dying inside (minho was. somehow, he started dying and reborn after he tried jisung's lips for the first time). "you can't even smoke cocaine."

minho eyes roll - glass globes. "i am sure i can if i really want to."

he can conquer anything if he wishes, jisung never once doubted him. 

minho was one of those people who could make time stop. somewhere, deep in the universe, time doesn't function the same it does on earth. 

love does. the principle of love never changes doesn't matter where you are.

that's why minho never doubted his love for jisung the time he was gone. 

relativity had its eternal war with time - it stretches, fastens it, fuck what's now, what's then. what's soon. 

love is untouchable. time can burn down how many houses he wants for fun. love, remains.

minho snorts, looks for jisung's warmth because some things never change. his jisungie is the perfect hugger. he takes care of everyone, like a child dad. "who are you?" minho asks, looking up from the warm, warm chest. 

jisung has never been dumb so he understands the question.

"i am kevin costner."

"the bodyguard or the untouchable?"

"the bodyguard," he murmurs, doesn't know why he speaks so low. he wants to seize the moment, maybe. keep it in a glass jar only he can open.

(minho has always been very delicate. his body fits perfectly in jisung's like they are complementary shapes.)

"uh." it sounds like nothing. gravity doesn't propagate the sound so sleepy minho is. "you were always the romantic one anyway."

minho is mia wallace (but fuck you quentin tarantino). they have a party to go.

loving someone never felt so difficult.

  
  
  


chan fucked minho while jisung was far away from their galaxy. twice. once in a dirty bathroom stall. he fucked him so deep minho could barely walk after. 

twice.

once in the back of chan's car. minho was so drunk he swore he would pass out so hard chris fucked his ass. 

but minho felt everything. he was alive, every single second.

jisung knows it. 

he knew minho wasn't only his anymore by the way-

by the way minho danced (the boy wanted to be watched. minho was the prey and the huntsman. jisung's hands held his hips but they moved for other man). by the way he kissed (with his full lips. in a hurry to be somewhere else. with somebody else. his minho- jisung's minho, he didn't kiss like that. every kiss used to be a hunt. they were slow and they were precise. quiet). 

by the way minho never asked where he had been. if jisung fucked somebody else while he was gone, too. 

(he didn't. to make love - shit. - was something jisung couldn't do with nobody else in this world but--)

"minho, no! stop it," felix shouts but it's already too late. minho is inside the pool and everything blooms blue around his arms, legs, limbs. 

for a moment, jisung wishes he could offer somebody else his heart. but love is not that easy. it burns blue inside his veins and it shouts

lee minho.

if jisung's heart functions, it is for minho too. forever it will be.

two months at rehab and

("why are you here, bro? changbin asked one night after the lights were off. 

they were bunk bed mates. if somebody had a smoke - a legal one - they could share, that somebody was changbin.

"i'm addicted to some stuff."

"to what, alcohol? pills?" changbin asked. 

jisung replied, looking up. there was nothing under the roof. not fluorescent stickers, not small flying animals. nothing, just the feeling life becomes better one day. "no, weed and synthetics. some of it, i don't know. i can't live without a guy, too."

"hum," changbin thought about it for a bit. "sounds fucked up to me. mine are hot dogs. i can not eat the kitchen's crap without puking it all later."

"well, same. food's fucking terrible in here."

and they became friends easily after that, slow paced. jisung kind of missed the times when changbin's puking sessions were the blue part of his days.)

minho remains his favorite addiction. jisung wants to do better for himself.

"what the fuck, minho." someone is getting him out of the beautiful pool. people are watching his shit show. jisung - his jisungie - watches minho get all wet too.

minho can't see well. his head buzzes so much and it's hard to separate shapes from colors. sounds are easier to work with and his skin is open to be touched, felt.

minho feels it all… he feels too much perhaps.

(he will start crying soon if he doesn't get jisung, he knows it.)

"where's jisung?" minho shouts to the person carrying him out of the water. if it wasn't for his angel, he could have died drowned in blue (it wouldn't be so bad). minho's clothes stick to his body. he feels sad and he feels high. he wants jisung. where's jisung? "i want jisung." he says.

"i'll take him," the voice - that sounds too much like chan's. minho isn't sure if he likes it or not - tells him. that's good. "stop fucking whining about your junkie boyfriend, won't you? and try not to kill yourself again while i'm gone."

"how's he?" another voice, deeper than chan's (why didn't they let me drown?), sounds more worried.

"he'll be fine." chris says. "can you watch him for a few minutes, baby?"

right, that's. . . felix. the other boyfriend.

broken hearts are never lonely.

  
  
  


" _one heart is not connected to another through harmony alone_ ," minho whispers. he can see jisung watching him now. they lay down in a bed that isn't theirs in a house of an unknown. both that close, minho can feel jisung's warm breathe hitting the skin of his cheeks. " _they are, instead, linked deeply through their wounds. pain linked to pain, fragility to fragility. there is no silence without a cry of grief, no forgiveness without bloodshed, no acceptance without a passage through acute loss. that is what lies at the root of true harmony._ "

the party slowed down by now. jisung is something he's been trying to be for months. he's clean.

no drugs. no cigarettes. just a half finished can of some cheap beer, minho noticed. 

something was happening.

(it's love, jisung doesn't have the heart to tell him. and you should love yourself too, baby. i need you. i breath you. i love you since i was fourteen.)

"i think we should break up," jisung loves that beautiful boy with every fiber of his heart. everytime it screams, it screams his name. 

lee minho. lee minho. lee minho.

he must go so he won't break those glass eyes - minho's glass heart - forever. 

minho's hair is wet (his real hair because he lost uma thurman wig inside the pool) but it doesn't fucking matter. jisung wants to see his face while he falls asleep, so he moves minho's short bangs out of his eyes and forehead.

"i think so too." minho replies before his eyes close. he needs to see jisung too.

he's never been so sure. not because of chan (minho never loved him for real). 

it's because of jisung.

whom he loves, forever.

**Author's Note:**

> [motion picture (unofficial) soundtrack](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fzK5kbNL2Ak)


End file.
